by Tina Folsom
Logan lifted his hands in a capitulating gesture. “I mean you no harm. And I wish I could make this easier on you, but there’s no easy way to tell you what you need to hear.”
Right now he sounded just like any conman who was trying to lure his mark into a trap. She’d allowed herself to drop her guard because of his good looks and kind demeanor. It had been a mistake.
Instinctively she took a couple of steps back, until the kitchen table halted her retreat. “Whatever you’ve got to say or sell or whatever, I’m not interested. Please leave.”
He didn’t move, neither making any attempt to leave the room, nor one to approach her. In fact, he remained frozen.
“I can’t leave. You need to know the truth. The things you see in your visions are real.”
“Visions?” She shook her head. “How do you know about the nightmares?”
“They’re not nightmares. They’re psychic visions. The green-eyed creatures you see, they’re demons.” He pointed to the table behind her.
“No.” She snatched a quick breath. “You stole my medical file.” She eased away from the table and toward the kitchen counter, where the knife with which she’d cut herself still lay. “What are you planning to do with it? Embarrass me? Ruin my business? Drive me crazy?”
She let out a bitter laugh and took another step toward the counter, avoiding looking at the knife so he wouldn’t notice what she was trying to do.
“What for?” she continued, to buy herself more time. “If you’ve seen my file, you know I’m already going crazy. And you also know that I’ve got nothing you could want, no money, no possessions.” She reached for the knife and gripped it, then pointed it in Logan’s direction. “Now get out.”
“Winter, please, hear me out.” He pointed to the knife. “Put it away or you’ll hurt yourself. I won’t come any closer. I have no intention of hurting you, physically or otherwise.”
He didn’t seem to be intimidated by the sharp knife in her hand, and that fact made her nervous.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Logan Frazer.”
“Your name is immaterial. Are you a criminal?”
“No, though I have to confess I entered your shop even though the door was locked.”
She knew it! She’d been certain that she’d locked it.
“So you are a criminal! I told you already I have nothing. No money, nothing of value. I can barely make the rent every month.”
“I’m not here to rob you. I’m here because—”
He interrupted himself and snapped his head in the direction of the door to the shop.
Her heart suddenly started pounding. Instinctively she held her breath, and then she heard it too: the wooden floorboards in the shop creaking under the weight of somebody’s foot.
“You should leave before I scream and that customer hears me,” she warned now.
He whirled his head back to her. “That’s not a customer. The door is still locked. Whoever is in your shop broke in.”
Confused, she opened her mouth to respond, but then Logan’s phone pinged.
He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the display. “Shit! Demons!”
6
At first Logan had thought that Manus had entered the shop, passing through the locked door the same way he had done. But Manus’s text message had squashed that assumption. Demons must have picked the lock and entered. How many, Logan didn’t know. And there was no time to ask Manus.
In disbelief, Winter stared at him, mouth agape.
But the time for explanations had run out. The door was flung open, and several demons charged through the short hallway into the kitchen.
Winter screamed at the top of her lungs.
“Fuck!” Logan hissed. There were four of them.
Apparently these days Zoltan, leader of the demons, believed in throwing as much manpower as he could muster at a tiny problem such as a psychic. Clearly, he’d learned from his mistakes. And the demons had an advantage: there was no back exit through which he and Winter could flee.
“Stay back, Winter,” Logan warned her, as she stood frozen at the kitchen counter. At least she still held the knife in her hand.
The four demons, their telltale green eyes glaring, charged at him. They were big creatures, humanoid in nature, but stronger and less vulnerable. Only weapons forged in the Dark Days could kill them. Logan now pulled such a weapon, an ancient dagger, from the concealed sheath inside his jacket.
“Come get me, you bastards!” he yelled. He had to keep them away from Winter until reinforcements arrived.
With blades aimed in his direction, the demons lurched forward. Logan made himself invisible, a skill unique to Stealth Guardians, and dove low to the left, avoiding his adversaries’ daggers. Angry grunting sounds bounced against the kitchen wall.
“Get the psychic!” one demon ordered.
Over my fucking dead body!
Still invisible, Logan lunged in front of the demon who now separated from the other three and veered toward Winter. Logan sliced his dagger across the asshole’s thigh, cutting deep.
Green blood spurted from the injured demon, accompanied by a cry of pain. He’d hit the femoral artery. Kicking him to the side with his foot, Logan managed to avoid being rained on. Relieved, he whirled around. The three able-bodied demons charged toward him like a wall.
“He must be here!” one of them grumbled in displeasure. “Fucking guardian!”
Still invisible, Logan jumped, aiming his foot at the demon to the left and kicking him back against the doorframe, while he let his right arm make a wide horizontal motion, aimed at the middle demon’s throat. More blood spurted, but the demon wasn’t dead. Logan had only grazed him.
“Gotcha!” one of the demons ground out.
Logan didn’t have to look down at himself to know that he’d been sprayed with green demon blood, blood that gave away his position. Unlike any other substance, demon blood couldn’t be made invisible.
“Shit!”
His advantage gone, Logan made himself fully visible to save energy and lunged at the demon again, but the two others came to his aid. And from behind Logan came the sounds of a struggle. The injured demon was trying to grab Winter, but Logan didn’t get a chance to spin around.
He kicked one of his attackers in the balls and while the bastard toppled over, clutching himself and crying in pain, Logan aimed his dagger at the demon to his right, managing to deliver a cut across his chest.
Then a blade came toward him from the other side. Logan ducked away, but couldn’t avoid it entirely. Pain seared his bicep. He drew back his other arm and flung the demon backwards. But the next one was already upon him. This time, Logan didn’t have time to dive away.
Yet the demon’s dagger didn’t connect with Logan’s chest. The creature suddenly froze, blood spurting from his neck, then he fell sideways. Behind him, Manus stood with a satisfied grin on his face and a bloodied dagger in his hand.
“You’re welcome,” Manus said and jumped at the demon Logan had just flung across the room.
Now free, Logan spun around.
Winter was fighting the injured demon at the kitchen counter. With one hand the bastard was trying to stem the flow of blood from his wound, the other was wrapped around Winter’s neck. The knife in her hand was gone, though Logan noticed several cuts on the demon’s arms.
Logan rushed toward them, gripping his dagger firmly. He snatched the demon by his shaggy hair, bent his head back, and sliced through his neck with such force that he severed the head from the torso.
He kicked the dead body to the ground, tossing the head after it like a useless piece of garbage. Which it was.
“You okay?” he asked Winter, who stared at him wide-eyed. He gave her a quick once over, but couldn’t detect any wounds except for the redness on her neck where the demon had tried to choke her. Luckily he’d been so weakened by his blood loss that he hadn’t had sufficient strength.
Winter’s lips
quivering, she nodded.
Angry grunting sounds made Logan whirl around. Manus was fighting the two remaining demons, holding them at bay as best he could.
Having reassured himself that Winter was okay for now, Logan went to help his compound brother. He ripped one of the demons off him, then aimed his dagger at the demon’s chest. But the bastard was strong, stronger than the others he’d fought. Logan was surprised that Manus had been able to keep him at bay while simultaneously dealing with a second attacker. Logan could barely land a punch or a blow, let alone do any damage with his dagger.
“Shit!” Logan cursed. “Fucking demons!”
He couldn’t see how Manus was faring with the other assailant, but he heard grunts and thuds, indicating they were still fighting. Finally Logan managed to kick the demon in his midsection, sending him back against the doorframe. Wood splintered, and an audible ooph escaped from his victim. The demon’s knees buckled from the impact, and Logan saw the chance to end him. He lunged forward, but the demon, his green eyes flashing, turned tail and charged through the hallway and into the shop.
By the time Logan had caught up with him, the demon was casting a vortex in the middle of the shop. A mass of black fog and cold wind suddenly swirled in the center of the room, momentarily pushing Logan against the wall, the force of the magic blasting him away from the demon’s portal. The blade slipped from Logan’s fingers and slithered away in the opposite corner of the shop, out of reach.
But Logan caught himself quickly despite the loss of his weapon, and, using all his energy, he lunged for the demon entering the vortex, intent on preventing his escape.
His hand found purchase on the demon’s forearm. Logan pulled, feeling the force of the vortex more intensely now. As if it wanted to devour him. But he wouldn’t let it. The only good kind of demon was a dead demon. That was his motto.
The demon’s second hand emerged from the dark fog and landed a punch. Logan’s head whipped back, but he wouldn’t be defeated so easily. With his free hand, he tried to reach for his boot, where he kept a second dagger, but his fingers couldn’t reach that far, without releasing his grip on the demon.
“Shit!”
He had no choice now. Logan dove forward, into the vortex. But the demon was faster. A heavy boot connected with Logan’s midsection, sending him flying out of the vortex and crashing against the wall of the shop. In the few seconds it took Logan to pick himself up, the demon disappeared, the vortex closing behind him, vanishing like a mirage.
“Fuck!”
But there was no time to cry over spilled milk. Logan turned and rushed back into the kitchen. Three dead demons lay on the ground, bathed in green blood. Relieved, Logan took a much-needed breath. But he didn’t even get to enjoy that short moment of peace.
Winter screamed. Logan’s gaze shot to her, his legs already moving. He charged toward where Manus was pressing her against the wall, his knife at her throat.
“Nooooooo!” Logan screamed.
Manus whipped his head to the side, staring at him, a look of resignation in his eyes. “It has to be done. The demons won’t give up.”
“No!”
But Manus turned his gaze back to Winter. Logan jumped, grabbed hold of Manus’s wrist and slammed it against the wall so hard Manus lost his grip on his dagger.
“Fucking asshole!” Manus hissed and glared at him.
Logan didn’t hesitate. He jerked Manus away from Winter, looped his arm around his fellow Stealth Guardian’s neck and put him in a chokehold. Manus fought him, kicking his legs back and tearing at Logan’s arm with his hands, but to no avail. Logan had the upper hand in this fight, and he was going to keep it. He couldn’t lose. Not when Winter’s life was at stake.
Later, he’d explain his actions to his friend and convince him that they had to protect Winter instead of killing her, but right now, with Manus running high on adrenaline from the fight with the demons, there would be no reasoning with him.
“Sorry, buddy,” he murmured close at Manus’s ear just as his friend stopped struggling and lost consciousness.
Slowly, making sure Manus didn’t hit his head, Logan dropped him on the ground. Then he looked up at Winter, who stared at him, her face drained of blood, her lips quivering.
“He was trying to kill me.” Then she looked toward the dead demons, motioned toward them with her hand. “Those things. Those monsters. They’re like the monsters in my dreams. Green-eyed monsters.” Her voice was shaking.
“They’re demons. Demons of Fear. And they weren’t dreams. You had visions of them, because you’re a psychic, and that’s why they came.”
“To kill me,” she stated.
Logan shook his head. “You’re not worth anything to them dead. They wanted to kidnap you. Take you to the Underworld, so you would serve them.”
A sob tore from her throat. “The fires, the caves…” She stared at him with a million questions in her eyes.
“I’ll explain everything. But we have to leave. Now. You’re not safe here anymore.” He pointed to the hallway where the stairs led to the upper floor. “Pack a bag, just the barest necessities, medicines, a change of clothes, any cash you have, any valuables.”
She nodded as if on autopilot. Logan watched her walk upstairs. When she was out of sight, he bent down to Manus and used his friend’s cell phone to send a text message to the compound requesting backup and a cleanup crew at Winter’s shop. He felt Manus’s pulse. His friend would be fine, but in an extremely bad mood once he regained consciousness. It was best to be far away by then and explain everything over the phone.
After assuring himself that all the demons were indeed dead, Logan collected their weapons and tossed them in a plastic bag he found in a drawer. Since weapons forged in the Dark Days were rare, they were always a welcome bounty.
He heard Winter descending the stairs. Good, she’d followed his instructions and packed quickly. Logan glanced around the kitchen once more, and his eyes fell on the overturned kitchen table. Winter’s drawings were scattered on the floor. He quickly collected several of them and shoved them into his jacket pocket.
“I’m ready,” Winter announced from the hallway.
Logan turned to her. “Let’s go.”
7
Winter still felt numb as Logan led her to his car and helped her in. She couldn’t speak. It felt as if she’d been in the middle of one of her nightmares, yet at the same time it had been different. It had been real. Which meant everything she’d ever seen during her episodes was real. The green-eyed monsters were demons and she had been right to fear them: they wanted to snatch her away and drag her to the Underworld. To hell. She’d actually seen herself there. As if it was her destiny. Or had Logan now altered her future? By killing the demons had he spared her from her fate?
“I’m not crazy,” she murmured to herself.
“What?”
She met Logan’s gaze. “I thought I was going crazy. I thought the nightmares meant that I was mentally ill.”
“You’re not,” he confirmed and looked back at the street ahead of him as he weaved through light traffic.
And it was a relief. She didn’t need the pills her psychiatrist had prescribed. Pills that made her feel like she wasn’t really there. Like she was living in a fog. Now everything was clear again, but she still had questions. A million questions. And she had no idea where to start.
“What exactly is a psychic? I mean, does that mean I really am a fortune teller?”
Logan gave her a sideways glance. “In a way. Psychics can see into the past as well as the future. But that doesn’t mean that what you see will necessarily happen. Just by communicating with somebody what you’ve seen, you may alter its outcome.”
“What do you mean?”
“For example if you warn somebody of something that might happen, that person can prepare for it and thus change the outcome, change the future.”
“Oh.” Now she realized the impact any of her visions could have. And she
’d had no idea, until these creatures had shown up and attacked her. “The demons… tell me about them. They seemed so strong. And their blood… I’ve never imagined a creature could have green blood,” she said.
“They are evil to the core,” Logan started. “Their blood and their green eyes are the only way they can be detected. And they’ve found ways to disguise their eyes, so we have a harder time spotting them.”
“Colored contact lenses?” she guessed.
He nodded and tossed her an appreciative glance. “That, and sunglasses. The fact that they still use sunglasses makes us think that the colored lenses don’t always work. We’ve suspected for a while now that the green color of their eyes is the result of some sort of chemical that might eventually burn through the lenses and render them useless.”
“Hence the need for sunglasses as a backup?”
“You learn fast. That’s good.”
She had no choice. “I want to survive.”
“And I’ll make sure of that.”
“You knew how to fight them.”
“My people have fought them for centuries. And we’ll continue fighting them until we’ve eradicated them,” Logan said grimly.
“But they seem so strong. Even injured, that demon who pinned me would have choked me to death had you not killed him. I tried to fight him… I had the knife, but when I cut him, he just laughed as if it didn’t hurt at all.” She shook her head. “Don’t they feel pain?”
“You fought bravely. But you didn’t have the right tools.”
“But I had a knife,” she protested. “And all of you were fighting with knives.” Which was strange in itself. Why not use guns against an enemy so strong?
“Daggers actually,” he said with a sideways glance.
“No different than a knife.”
“Our weapons were forged a very long time ago. From special metal. They are the only weapons that can kill a demon. Sure, your knife cut him, but it didn’t really hurt him, nor would you have been able to inflict a mortal wound with it.” He shrugged. “That’s just how it is. You couldn’t know. You really had no way of defending yourself.”
